


It's Been A Long Time Coming

by faerieswing



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Comfort/Angst, Developing Relationship, First Kiss, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Romantic Friendship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-12
Updated: 2014-07-29
Packaged: 2018-01-19 03:32:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1453864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faerieswing/pseuds/faerieswing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Title: It’s Been A Long Time Coming, Pt. 1<br/>Pairing: Snake/Otacon<br/>Rating: R<br/>Summary: First part of a multi-part story about the evolution of Snake and Otacon’s relationship. Snake feels like joining Philanthropy was the change in his life that he was looking for, but there’s still something missing, and it takes the events of the Big Shell for him to realize what he’s been wanting all along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is greatly appreciated! I’m still trying to nail down each of their voices.

After Shadow Moses, Snake had made the promise that he was going to live more for others instead of himself, and Philanthropy filled the promise easily, like a check mark off a list. He thought that was enough of a change, that it would satisfy that gnawing feeling between ribs that had been bothering him since Shadow Moses. Hell, if he was honest, it had been going on for years. The solitary life in Alaska brought forth plenty for him to dwell on alone, freezing, and oftentimes in the dark. The altruistic missions he and Otacon took on eased the feeling some, but it still felt like something was missing and Snake couldn’t figure if it was guilt or residual anger or something else completely. 

_“Do you ever think about what your life would have been like if you hadn’t been forced into Shadow Moses?”_

_“I think I’d be dead by now.”_

_Otacon paused, forehead wrinkling. He sipped at his coffee, waiting for Snake to fill in the rest._

_“I would have drank myself to death, no doubt. I had nothing to live for.”_

_“I know what you mean.”_

_“Oh, really? Since when did you pick up a drinking habit, Otacon?”_

_“No, not that. I mean the nothing to live for part. After I realized what REX really was, I mean, I can see where I would have given up. I put my whole heart into that project and it all came tumbling down in a matter of seconds.”_

_“Mmm. What was it that saved you again?”_

_“Come on. Don’t be so transparent.”_

After a while Snake really thought he was beginning to change. He felt useful again, only this time in a way that didn’t wake him up in a cold sweat at night. Having a purpose that rested in the hopeful sector was a change to be sure. Spending his days with Otacon was far different than living with the battle-hungry souls he was used to. Otacon was adamant that they make non-lethal force first priority, that planning should always win out over run-and-gun, and that even the bad guys deserved a certain level of respect in regards to their lives. He also wouldn’t let Snake buy mousetraps for their various headquarters, no matter how many boxes of cereal they chewed through. 

The adjustment felt strange to Snake, but for some reason it was easy to compromise with Otacon. The engineer was a man who rarely acted out of self-interest unless it came to the choice of what movie to watch, but even then he pretended like he’d be okay watching Casino Royale for a third time if that’s what Snake wanted. Snake never considered himself the kind of person that would alter his will to make another happy, but he found himself suggesting take-out food that was Otacon’s favorite and dealing with the temperature of their apartment rising over 75 from all the computer equipment running non-stop. 

_“I saw this at the grocery store. You like this stuff, right?”_

_“Oh, wow, Snake, you know what Ramune is?”_

_“Not really. I saw the Japanese lettering on the bottle and figured you’d probably be interested.”_

_“Absolutely! Here, look, this is how it works.”_

_“Is that a marble?”_

_“Yeah, see, you take this plastic part and pop the marble down into the neck of the bottle. It rattles around and makes the soda all fizzy.”_

_“Huh.” Snake leaned in closer to watch what Otacon was doing. “Ah!” He jumped back, startled, at the loud pop and clatter the marble made as it shot out of the bottle’s opening._

_Otacon tried not to laugh, holding the bubble gum-flavored soda out to Snake. “You can have first drink,” he giggled._

The changes happened in degrees—a shrug of his shoulders where before he would have gotten angry, agreeing to take funding from a book he didn’t particularly agree with being published, calling Otacon “Hal” and answering occasionally to “Dave” when they weren’t actively on a mission . . .trying chicken Ramen instead of his usual beef. And then Snake nearly died and everything really began to change. 

*

It wasn’t the fact that Hal saved his life. That wasn’t a new circumstance, though he was incredibly impressed at the engineer’s quick thinking that night. Two minutes later and he wouldn’t have coughed back to life, wouldn’t have gotten the chance to grumble his way through two weeks of Hal-mandated bed rest. 

_“You have pneumonia, Snake! You can’t just walk it off this time.”_

_“Would you just let me fix my own oatmeal? I’m not an invalid.”_

_Hal grabbed the packet of oats out of Snake’s hands. “Sit. Down. And. Rest. Or I’ll explain the ending of Evangelion to you again.”_

And it wasn’t really their proximity, or their shared goals, or even the bond of fighting side by side. All of these feelings Snake had felt before; he’d felt comradery and affection, the tug in his chest that said he’d throw himself in front of a bullet to protect his friend. He had days in fox holes next to other soldiers, all fighting for the same purpose, all having one another’s backs to the end. But none of those familiar feelings struck to the back of his throat the way Hal’s name clung to him every time he spoke it. 

It was the way Hal looked at him and rolled his eyes and stormed away in frustration three to four times a day, his arms going nearly boneless with movement every single time. It was the way that Hal always asked permission for things that were rightfully his—money for a new hard drive, space on the wall for a poster, time to put on a disguise and go visit a shop. It was how Snake felt needed, but for the first time in his life it was his choice to be there. He’d been needed his entire adult life by the military, but he never had much choice—Philanthropy, and Hal as his partner, was his choice completely. 

It was how Snake suddenly had words that carried away the knots in his chest, gave them to Hal, who gladly untangled the strands and carefully folded and returned them. Hal didn’t force him to talk, but he was always there, never too busy to listen to a suddenly remembered story about Zanzibar Land or a nagging feeling of guilt about Frank Jaeger, or Master Miller, or even Meryl. Hal didn’t complain about having to live in constant hiding, but he understood Snake’s frustration with no longer being free to roam the world without careful preparation. He knew how to talk Snake down when he wanted to pull out his guns and make somebody pay for what had happened in the Hudson River. 

_“We have to do something. I’m sick of shadow-dwelling and tip toeing around. We can find where Ocelot is. I know you can find it out.”_

_“And what good will you do for mankind when you’re locked up in a federal prison awaiting your trial for treason? It’s too hot out there right now, Snake. You’ve got to be patient.”_

_“I am so fucking sick of being patient.”_

_“Maybe you should have thought of that when you let that cipher take your glam shot.”_

_“I didn’t let…”_

_“You know I’m kidding! Come on, Snake. It’s not like we’re just sitting around waiting. We’re working every day to figure out what’s really going on at the Big Shell. Just today we found all that intel on that Dead Cell group.”_

_“We didn’t find anything. You’re doing all the work. I’m just sitting around doing push-ups and reading Tom Clancy.”_

_“Would it make you feel better if I taught you how to hack into Pentagon records? I really think if you wanted to learn . . .”_

_“Otacon . . .”_

Snake would of course be kidding himself if he said he caught onto all of these feelings quickly. He’d walked around for almost two years unsure of the flicker he’d feel in his stomach in the morning sitting next to Hal for breakfast. He didn’t believe he was capable of love, not anymore, not in the specific sense—the way other people talked about it. 

But after the Big Shell, that was when it started to dawn on him. After they’d learned about the Patriots and GW, after they found Emma and just as quickly lost her, it was obvious Hal carried around that burden as if it rested with him alone. Seeing Hal in pain wasn’t necessarily new, but Snake could hardly stand still when he thought about the hurt in him. He wanted to kick and shoot and scream at the whole world because there was nothing he could to do un-tense the muscles of Hal’s face, or ease the sick churning of his grief, but Snake tried anyway. Not being able to help made him crazy; he’d never cared about intervening in someone else’s emotional baggage before, but now it was all he could think about. He suddenly became the overeager teenage friend that always wants to hang out, let’s do something, come on, dude. And Hal would try. He would try to smile, but no amount of playing tower defense games or watching his favorite animes or Snake fixing his favorite foods removed the weight constantly perched on his slim shoulders.

The ridiculousness of his situation wasn’t lost on Snake. How long had he been walking around loving Hal without having any clue? He felt incredulous at the fact that it took Hal being nearly wrecked with grief for it to become clear that he cared for him in that way. What did that say about Snake’s own abilities at introspection? What did it say about his ability to help Hal out of the depths of depression? 

A few weeks in, Snake finally stopped trying to be upbeat. He stopped the attempts to make himself feel better by making Hal smile. Side-stepping the issue wouldn’t help Hal heal. Snake already noticed the way Hal would duck into the bedroom, or rub his eyes or feign tiredness when Snake caught him in the midst of his grief. He’d shrug it off in front of Snake, not wanting to become a burden. Snake knew him well enough to know how he internalized to the point of self-destruction. That tendency in him to think of others ahead of himself wasn’t doing him any good anymore. He needed to know Snake was there for him, that acknowledging what happened and dealing with it was the only way he’d ever get past it. 

Hal was clicking away at his keyboard around midnight, his posture tense but trying to give the appearance that he was just concentrating. Snake walked up behind him, put a warm hand on his shoulder, his touch gentle. He lightly pulled Hal’s arms away from the desk. 

“Come on,” Snake said softly. Hal turned around and looked at him, not annoyed, but not entirely willing. “Just come sit with me, okay? You’ve worked enough for today. It’s late.”

Hal pursed his lips, a protest on his tongue, but Snake gave him another squeeze on the shoulder and whispered this time. “Come on.” 

He led Hal to the couch and it felt instantly serious to Snake, so he leaned back against the cushions in an attempt to feel more relaxed. Hal followed, looking down at his hands instantly, their knees bumping. There was a feeling in the air that crackled and Snake knew it was all on his part. He took a deep breath to ground himself back to his original purpose. 

“Hal, you know you don’t have to hide anything around me, right?” Snake asked after a few moments of silence. “I’m never going to judge you. It’s . . .” he paused, shifting a little on the couch to face Hal more directly. “It’s okay for you to be sad.” 

Snake left out, “And it’s okay for me to let you feel sad,” even though he had to constantly repeat it to himself. 

Hal looked up at him briefly, then down at his hands. The corners of his mouth turned downwards, tears starting to cover the grey of his eyes. He licked his lips and bit back a sob, turning away again. 

Snake didn’t even pause to think. He reached out, touched two calloused fingertips to Hal’s jaw, lightly turning his face and eyes back to him. He didn’t have any words, not yet, so he just nodded— _it's okay_. Hal blinked and let the tears slide down one cheek, then the other. 

“I feel so terrible,” Hal said, voice wavering. Snake brought his thumb up to rest on the other side of Hal’s face. “I’m the reason she’s dead. I’m the reason she ever got involved in it in the first place. If I hadn’t been so . . . weak,” he practically spat the word “Then everything would have been different.”

“You can’t blame yourself for the choices your father made, or the ones Emma made out of anger. It isn’t your fault that they let their pain win.” 

“Why not? I’m the common denominator, Snake! Everyone around me ends up hurt.” 

That stung, Snake knowing exactly how Hal was feeling. “You can’t make a person’s choices for them. That’s on them. The mistakes your family made aren’t your fault, even if it feels that way. That’s what you have to keep telling yourself. It wasn’t your fault.”

The anger in Hal’s eyes started to soften a little. “Does it ever stop feeling that way?”

“It gets easier,” Snake said. “I’m still working on it, too. I don’t know if it ever goes away completely, but,” Snake paused to tilt Hal’s face back to where he could see his eyes. “Every day that you accept you aren’t to blame, it’s that much easier to be in your own skin.” 

A fresh pair of tears slid down Hal’s cheeks at that. He nodded his head a little, looking away and sniffing. Snake adjusted his touch, cupping Hal’s chin like a glass, gentle, his thumb traveling up to wipe away a tear. Hal’s lips parted, his brow knitting together, but no sound came. Snake felt a jolt of fear at the thought that Hal would soon push his hand away from his hot cheek. Instead, Hal rose a shaky hand and wrapped it lightly, awkwardly around Snake’s wrist. 

“I felt so helpless. Still feel helpless. I couldn’t save her,” Hal half spoke, half whispered. He squeezed Snake’s wrist, but still didn’t look up at him. 

“You don’t get used to that,” Snake said, wanting to grab Hal up into his arms and shield him from all these emotions he had no foolproof defense for. “But you find ways to take back control. You can never completely protect someone, but it’s helped me to know that I’m doing everything I can to keep the people I care for safe.” He paused, then added, “I would do anything for you, Hal. Sometimes it isn’t enough,” Snake lowered his voice, “but the best you can do is not stop trying.” 

It was more than Snake had talked about his feelings in a long time. It left him feeling even more exposed, but if this was what it took to bring Hal back it would be more than worth it. 

Hal didn’t respond, but he tilted his head to the side, seeming to be working on making peace with that idea. They sat in silence for several moments, Hal squeezing Snake’s wrist on and off, intermittently drawing small circles against the backs of Snake’s fingers. He returned the gentle touches, lightly rubbing his fingertips against Hal’s stubbled cheek as Hal continued to look down at his lap, the tears still slipping down his sharp face. His skin was a light shade of pink, his breathing quick and shallow, but from this close, Snake thought he’d never looked so incredible. 

After another few moments, Snake gently tipped Hal’s chin upwards again, brushing away the last of the tears. Hal finally opened his eyes and Snake had to bite his lip to keep from sighing. Hal was completely open—No more shields, no more walls, no more hiding. Here Hal was; Snake just had to take him. 

Cupping Hal’s shoulder with his free hand, Snake waited, his heart pounding hot and loud in his ears. Hal bit the corner of his lip and exhaled deeply, reaching up to grab Snake’s hand and place it open-palmed across his chest—pledge-of-allegiance style over his heart. He stared unflinchingly into Snake’s eyes, the sadness starting to lift from his features to be replaced with a warmer curiosity. 

Snake sighed aloud as Hal closed his eyes again, his forehead knotting together lightly in concentration. Snake wanted everything now—all of Hal, all of love and fear and vulnerability and everything he swore he’d never need, swore would just end up getting him killed in the end. God, if he could just know for sure that Hal wanted the same, all of it, but Hal kept looking away and it was making Snake wild. His stomach was up between his ears and he could barely sit still. 

Finally, mercifully, Hal turned his face inwards into Snake’s palm. His lips grazed the inside of Snake’s thumb, brow knotting further as he traced the tips of Snake’s fingers with his bottom lip, so light, just feeling, exploring. Snake’s other hand began fisting at Hal’s shirt; he could hardly stand it. _Please, just let me have this._

Hal stopped, opened his eyes at last, and looked at Snake for several long moments, his fingertips twitching, waiting on the top of Snake’s left thigh. His lips parted, soundlessly whispering. Then he licked them and said deeply, “Dave . . .”

Snake nodded, not noticing that he’d stopped breathing.

“Can I . . .” Hal paused and Snake’s stomach dropped hard down into his toes. “Can I kiss you?” 

Snake wanted to laugh, to scream, to flip over a table, but he just nodded quickly, whispering, “Yes.” 

And then in slow motion Hal was there, his lips pressing gently, so innocent that Snake nearly groaned with the urgent tugging in his chest for more. _Oh_. He had been waiting so long, and now here they were kissing quietly in the warm, lamp-lit edge of their couch. 

Snake held Hal to him with his fingers at the base of Hal’s neck. He parted his lips, catching Hal’s lower lip and having to restrain himself from shoving, pulling, devouring him all. Hal’s hands were nervous, tentative but warm on Snake’s biceps. Snake had a brief thought of how endearing Hal’s shyness was, but then it was right back to the silver sparks popping in his chest, behind his eyes, in his hungry fingertips, his hungry lips. How long had he been starving? 

Picking up quickly, Hal poured himself into Snake, pressing every limb, every inch he possibly could up against him. He murmured, “Dave,” into Snake’s ear, and just like that Snake began to melt away, leaving only those previously guarded pieces behind, leaving only Dave for Hal to dive into. 

Inside Hal, Dave could feel sparks, too, golden and warm instead of cool silver. Hal reached up and semi-held Dave by the ears, palms muffling the room into only his heart, his breath, and Hal’s. Moaning against Hal’s jaw, Dave pulled away for just a moment, then let his face find home in Hal’s neck, Hal’s ear, Hal’s collar bones, finding it ever difficult to savor rather than swallow whole. Hal smelled sharp, sharp like every line of his body, crisp like the fall, clean with just a hit of salt from the earlier tears. 

Hal was deliciously kissing the spot below Dave’s ear where jaw met neck, and Dave thought he could probably drop off the edge from those kisses alone. He pulled Hal away, putting two hands on his shoulders, mumbling, “So good . . . but too good for right now.”

Hal looked confused for a moment, then got a crooked little smile as he caught on to Dave’s panting. Hal rubbed his palm up the inside of Dave’s left thigh, not quite bold enough yet to rub across his cock, but Dave could feel that it might not be too far away. He paused for a moment, wanting to clear his head—they should wait. Really. Wait for a time when emotional vulnerability couldn’t be mistaken as the reason for their intimacy. 

“Hal,” Dave murmured, feeling long fingers tracing along his scalp. “I want it, but . . .”

Hal caught his eye and quickly seemed to realize what Dave meant. He nodded. “Yeah, me, too, but . . . maybe you’re right. Maybe we should take a minute.”

Dave nodded back. “Just a little while. Sleep on it, at least.” He pushed back the hair from Hal’s forehead, not being able to give up all physical contact just yet. “Come on, let’s lie down. It’s . . . late.”

He held Hal’s hand as they padded down the short hallway of their three-room apartment. They turned into the bedroom, clicking on the dim overhead light and stopping at the first mattress pressed into the corner. Dave sat on the edge of the bed and Hal followed, eyes bright, cheeks flushed. 

“I don’t think this is where we should go to cool it down,” Hal said, already starting to paw at the bottom of Dave’s shirt. Dave knew he was right—they needed to sleep on this thing, separately, but he was so hot and hungry and then Hal was there, straddling his lap. Quickly they were kissing again, kissing, hips grinding, fingers grabbing, and Dave tried to slow the kisses down, the sparks absolutely wild behind his eyes, in his hands, his mouth. 

“On top of the clothes?” Hal muttered into Dave’s ear. A compromise. 

But Dave wasn’t sure he could trust himself with that, and Hal was already breaking his own compromise, reaching up under Dave’s shirt, fingers cold and making goosebumps pop up and down both of his arms. “Ungh . . . you’ve . . .you’ve gotta stop your hips, Hal,” Dave said, voice throaty against Hal’s neck. He felt Hal shudder slightly, but ignore his words, rocking his hips harder. “I fucking love it, but . . .” Dave moved around to kiss him deeply, sucking his upper lip, loud. “But I can’t.” 

Hal pulled back from the kiss, a little breathless, but nodding. He exhaled loudly, put his hands on his own hot face, nodding again. “Yeah, no, me neither. I . . .” He pushed his hair back from his forehead, taking another few deep breaths. “I don’t know what came over me.” He looked away nervously, cheeks flushing. 

Dave bit back the urge to throw the engineer onto the bed and make him flush like that all over. Instead he put his hands on the small of Hal’s back, tried to be the voice of reason. “I guess we should try to get some rest.”

Hal laughed at that. The first real laugh in weeks. “Try,” he said. 

“You know I don’t want to either.”

“No, but I need a cold shower or something,” Hal fanned his face with his hands. 

“That doesn’t work.”

“It doesn’t?”

“Not when you’re this . . .” Dave paused, considering the best word to use. “Heavy.” 

“This hard, you mean?” Hal rolled his hips and Dave could feel him hard, full and pressing hot against his pajama bottoms. Dave wished he had a bullet to bite on at that moment. 

“Okay, I clearly can’t sleep next to you.” Dave pushed Hal backwards on his lap, holding him away slightly. At that Hal frowned, so Dave amended, “You can’t seem to behave yourself. Aren’t you supposed to be the gentleman here?”

“Not me,” Hal replied with a smirk. 

Dave reached up and touched Hal’s cheek with the backs of his fingers. He worked over Hal’s face with his gaze, still in shock to a certain degree. “Then I guess it’s going to have to be a first for me.” 

“Look at you trying new things.”

Dave had to laugh at that, short and loud. “I’m not sure you can even fathom.” Hal leaned them both backwards against the bed, palms pressing into the mattress on either side of Dave’s shoulders. He kissed the right corner of Dave’s mouth, then the left. 

“I might have an idea,” he mumbled. Then he pulled back with a sigh, trying to climb off Dave’s lap as gracefully as possible, which wasn’t very. 

They first tried to lie side by side on the cramped bed, but that quickly grew uncomfortable. Dave knew spooning would push him right back into a heat alert, so they settled for on their sides facing one another. Dave rested a hand on Hal’s hip and they both fell into a light sleep after about a half an hour of quiet talking—not yet touching on what was quickly forming between them, or Hal’s grief, or even Dave’s ever-growing desire to try new things.


	2. It's Been A Long Time Coming, Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: It's Been A Long Time Coming, pt.2  
> Pairing: Snake/Otacon  
> Rating: NC-17 for frottage.  
> Summary: You didn't think they were actually going to sleep, did you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback and suggestion is always appreciated!

A few minutes or hours later, Dave came to, feeling a soft touch on his neck. Warm. He opened his eyes to the darkness, limbs pressing heavy into the bed, unable to process more than a gentle flutter of pleasure. _That feels good._

Dave blinked a few times, then started to comprehend: Lips—Hal’s—on his neck. . . . Hands—Hal’s—on his chest. . . . Breath—Hal’s—against his ear. He let out a small sigh, fumbling under the blanket to free his arm. He grabbed lightly at Hal’s elbow, rolling over in search of lips, getting ear, cheek, nose, and chin before finding what he was looking for. Their lips connected, Hal’s mouth greeting him warmly and they both sighed quietly into the darkness. Still partially asleep and fuzzy headed, Dave’s kisses were long and slow and breathless. Hal matched his pace, sliding his tongue in lazy strokes inside Dave’s lips. Dave’s tongue rubbed back in light swirls as he began to wake up a little more, the insistent throbbing below the covers starting to creep up into his awareness. He reached around to slide his hand under Hal’s t-shirt, fingers skating along the soft skin. He slipped his thumb around to brush Hal’s nipple, feather light circles—the rest of the skin on Hal’s chest and arms immediately bursting into goose bumps at the touch. 

Then Hal started moaning quietly, quick, delicious little sounds against Dave’s mouth. He began bucking is hips in a slow rock against Dave’s thigh. Heat tickled down Dave’s shoulder blades, pooling around his hips and forcing him to slide his knee in between Hal’s thighs, rubbing back against him. They both readjusted, fumbling awkwardly, Hal laughing into Dave’s hair, kissing his temple—everything in Dave’s chest began to tingle. 

Grinning into the darkness, Dave reached up to pull Hal back down to him. “C’mere,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around the engineer, holding him by the hips. Hal was half-way leaning, half-way laying down, his legs intertwined with Dave’s, their hips pushing and grinding, desperate for more pressure. Dave leaned up some to meet the kisses, guiding Hal’s hip with one strong hand, the other buried deep in the mess of Hal’s soft hair. Feeling Hal’s fully hard cock against his hip, his thigh, was almost unreal. His whole body was humming, a gentle rolling wave of heat pulsing in his chest and stomach. 

Hal’s warm hands were working up and down Dave’s back, his sides, digging past the covers to grasp at his ass, his thighs—hard. What had started as very sleepy kisses was quickly getting out of control again. Dave pushed his hips forward with more force, the head of his cock pressing against the base of Hal’s. He gasped at the flood of tingles that poured down from the top of his skull down to his toes—they were both only in boxers and there wasn’t anything stopping the heat between them. 

“Hal,” he moaned, not stopping the motion of his hips, but considering trying to. For now he could only muster a weak, “Too much.” Despite saying so, Dave bit gently at Hal’s neck, kissing up to his earlobe and teasing it with his tongue. 

Hal responded by digging his fingers into Dave’s hip and groaning, turning his head in to find Dave’s mouth, kissing him hard and mumbling, “Not stopping this time.”

“But, Hal,” Dave gasped, his hands not following the sentiment of his words at all—they continued pushing Hal’s hips and cock rougher against his own. His heart was starting to pound, his internal protests growing weaker—it just felt too good. 

“ ’s okay,” Hal sucked in a breath, then exhaled a sigh. He slowed down their kisses some, touching Dave’s face—a testament to its okayness, Dave guessed. “ ’s more than okay.” 

“If you’re sure,” Dave murmured, taking the lead back in the kiss, sucking on Hal’s lower lip, rubbing his tongue along the edge. 

“I’m sure,” he whispered, breaking his lips away and tossing back the blankets in one motion. He straddled Dave’s hips, leaning down and peppering the side of his neck in warm raindrop kisses. Dave melted back into the mattress, another wash of tingles dancing down his spine. 

“Me, too,” was all he could muster. Then for a moment he felt fear prickle up his neck—everything was about to change for the two of them. He didn’t doubt his own feelings, not anymore, but Hal was still vulnerable. It hit Dave hard that that made him just as vulnerable; he was going in blind, unarmed, no briefing. 

But then Hal laughed softly against his ear, “God, Dave,” and kissed a line across his cheek to the corner of his mouth. Maybe he was going in blind, but ever since they first met Hal had been his support—unconditionally, never even pausing to consider another option. Hal never let him down, not once, not even in the most messed up of circumstances. Dave trusted him more than anyone, anything. That had always been enough and Dave had no reason to think that would ever change. With that, Dave felt something wiggle, then twist around inside his heart. Suddenly it clicked into place and Dave knew this was it. This was everything. 

Dave wanted to take his time, to savor every patch of skin, every freckle, but Hal seemed to have other ideas, grinding his cock against Dave’s in deep circles. Dave let his thoughts go—he had to believe there would be plenty of time later for detailed exploration. Now the heat of the room was rising and Hal’s quiet moans were getting louder against his ear. 

Dave rocked his hips upwards against Hal’s—their separate, eager rhythms coming together after a minute or so into a smooth dance, Dave helping to guide Hal’s grinding circles with his hands down the back of his boxers. 

Hal teetered backwards some and Dave caught him by the small of his back, both laughing. Dave brought Hal back into position and held him there, momentarily pausing his hips to reach up and touch Hal’s face. Only a few slivers of light made it in through the window, so Dave could only make out the strongest lines of his face—his jaw, his cheekbones—but he could feel Hal’s smile shining through the darkness. He held Hal lightly by the chin, pulling him down for a kiss. He couldn’t stop smiling against Hal’s lips. 

Familiar silver sparks were very quickly pooling right below Dave’s belly button, pulsing and spinning jets of pleasure down his legs and up his chest. Hal’s kisses on his collarbone sent more sparks down his arms as he rocked Hal harder. The head of his cock rubbed along the inside of Hal’s thigh in an increasingly urgent manner. Dave felt himself beginning to flirt with the edge, the pressure so incredible against his cock. He turned into Hal, finding his mouth again, kissing him deep as the sparks swirled faster. Hal gasped against his mouth and the swirls grew faster still, spinning him like a carnival ride, and then he burst wide open—a bottle rocket explosion of silver waves. He moaned, “Hallll . . .” deep into his partner’s mouth, continuing to hold on hard to Hal’s hips through his orgasm. He pushed Hal against him harder, head and neck still floating, and about a minute later he felt Hal shudder and start gasping breathlessly against his ear. He wrapped his arms around him and rode along, feeling a lighter wave of tingles roll over his body at the sound of Hal’s release. 

They lay tangled together, Hal’s face buried in Dave’s shoulder, still half-way on top of him. Dave traced zig-zags along Hal’s back, enjoying the warm and light feeling still hovering along his limbs. The silence was comfortable, their breathing filling in just fine for words. 

Hal finally broke the quiet with a small laugh. “I guess neither of us is much of a gentleman, huh?”

Dave smiled at that, reaching up to thread his fingers through Hal’s hair. He brushed his nose against Hal’s temple, “Guess not.” 

They snuggled a few more minutes before Hal eventually shifted, getting up momentarily to shed his boxer shorts and use the bathroom. Dave did the same. When they both settled back in the bed, it was an easy choice for how they should lie. Dave put his arms around Hal from behind, touching the top of Hal’s hand. Sleep came easy this time. 

*  
In the morning, Dave slowly approached Hal in the kitchen. Hal was wearing an oversized t-shirt with cartoon characters on the front and flannel sleep pants, barefoot. His back was towards him as he was scooping coffee grounds into the filter. 

“Don’t only count every-other scoop again. I’m not in the mood for motor oil this morning.”

Hal glanced sideways at him, his nostrils slowly fanning outwards. He put two scoops of Folgers in the filter, never breaking eye contact as he counted aloud, “One . . .”

Dave smiled and gently nudged Hal’s shoulder. He didn’t usually break the sarcasm dance so soon, but he had more pressing thoughts this morning. He turned around, leaning up against the counter. He grasped onto the edge of the sink, feeling a little nervous and not knowing what to do with his hands. 

Hal quickly finished prepping the coffee and turned to mirror Dave’s position, nudging the bridge of his glasses back up with his middle finger. 

“So . . .” Dave started. 

Hal looked down at the floor, rubbing the back of his neck with his palm. He laughed a little, biting his lip. Dave felt a tingle start near his sternum. 

“Yeah, so . . .” Hal replied, looking at Dave curiously over the tops of his frames. 

“Are . . .” Dave started, then stopped. He shook his head and laughed at himself—the fact that Hal was making him nervous. “Are we doing this?” He gestured at the space between them with his hand. It wasn’t poetry, but he hoped Hal wouldn’t mind. 

“Um, yeah,” Hal started, his cheeks starting to bloom pink. “Yeah, I think so. I mean,” He turned to face Dave more directly. The assured, take-charge attitude of the night before had faded some, but Dave could tell it was waiting in the wings—Hal kept staring at his lips. “If you want to. If you think . . . I mean . . .” 

Dave cut him off, pivoting and boxing Hal in against the counter, a hand on either side of his hips. He took another step forward, their chests a few inches away, hips slightly brushing. “I want to,” he said, voice deep. 

Like the flip of a light switch, the fire was immediately back in Hal’s eyes, grey darkening into silver. He looked up at Dave, lips parted slightly, the tips of their noses near to brushing. Closing the gap between them still didn’t feel quite like a natural movement yet, so Dave eyed Hal’s face for several moments, a wild churning already starting in his chest. From this close he could feel Hal’s breaths on his cheeks. 

Dave leaned in closer, skipping Hal’s lips, smiling to himself when he heard Hal’s small, disappointed gasp. “You asked if I want to,” Dave growled against Hal’s ear. “But what about you, huh?” He lightly traced the shell of Hal’s ear with his lower lip. 

“I want to,” Hal said almost immediately, voice warm and almost on the edge of moaning. “I’ve wanted to for a while.” 

“A while? What stopped you?” Dave asked, lips on Hal’s earlobe . . . not touching him anywhere else yet. Hal was still holding on tight to the edge of the counter. 

“I was . . . afraid,” Hal’s voice took on an edge of sadness. 

The honesty of the answer made Dave pause. There was still a discussion to be had, but maybe not yet . . . not when Hal’s slightly damp hair still smelled of apple shampoo . . . not when Hal’s collar bone was peeking out from the collar of his t-shirt . . . not when Dave felt so hot he could hardly hold himself back. 

“Me, too,” he put his lips full against Hal’s ear. “But not anymore,” he whispered hotly. “You?”

“Mmm, no.” The warmth returned to Hal’s voice and Dave grinned. 

Then Hal reached up under Dave’s t-shirt to touch his sides, and with that first touch they were off.


	3. It's Been A Long Time Coming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: It's Been A Long Time Coming, pt. 3  
> Pairing: Snake/Otacon  
> Rating: NC-17  
> Notes: I tried to walk the line between plot and porn in this one, so feedback in terms of pacing and characterization is very much appreciated.  
> Summary: _Hal had saved him countless times, would continue to save him countless more. Dave wouldn’t hesitate to burn down the whole world for Hal, but he knew Hal would never need him to._

Even at nine in the morning, the July heat was reaching unbearable levels. For three days the power had been spotty at best; the grids were unable to keep up with the demand of cooling homes in consistently 103-degree weather. The oppressive cloud of air near-to-bursting at the seams with moisture hung around with a stubbornness, filling their lungs and clinging to their skin with a sticky dampness. 

Hal was reclined on the couch, reading a small paperback in his boxer shorts and a light t-shirt. Dave walked over, tapped him once on the shoulder; Hal leaned forward, eyes not leaving the page. Dave knew he was only minimally engaged in the story—he hadn’t turned a page in over five minutes. After sitting down, Dave gently brought Hal back down so his head rested in his lap. At this, he finally dropped the book to the side, leaning his head back to make upside-down eye contact. 

Dave smiled slightly; Hal blinked back slowly. 

The first few weeks they spent together passed in a flurry: fingertips on warm skin, lips pressed to thighs, shoulders, knees, backs. Dave had never wanted with such a ferocity, and Hal was happy to give . . . even happier to take. They took long naps in the afternoons, Dave lightly tracing along Hal’s shoulder blades. He’d run his fingers down Hal’s scalp, draw circles in the bend of his elbow, kiss his wrists to wake him up just long enough so he could taste Hal’s lips once, twice more before he would slip back into sleep, murmuring _Mmm, Dave_ with a snuggly smile on his face. Dave was quickly growing to adore the sleepy warmth of Hal’s breath on his neck, the easy heat of his body beside him. 

It was in those quiet moments when Hal was asleep that Dave sorted through his thoughts, tried to make sense of the way his neck tingled when he’d catch Hal watching him from across the room, the comfortable pressure that seemed to settle in his chest. He knew he cared, knew he definitely liked Hal like that, but his feelings were striding farther and farther ahead of his brain and it was terrifying. Every minute he felt the urge to fold Hal into his arms and melt into his touch. He’d watch Hal work, marvel at how he could think through a problem scenario in seconds—reroute an entire plan without pausing a beat for panic. Hal had saved him countless times, would continue to save him countless more. Dave wouldn’t hesitate to burn down the whole world for Hal, but he knew Hal would never need him to. 

He couldn’t say it, wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to, but his eyes were beginning to betray the secret—he couldn’t keep them off Hal, and they were dangerously full with love.

Then the summer heat came. Time passed. The outside world began to claw its way back in and pry them apart. Their relationship couldn’t be a distraction forever—Dave knew that. But that didn’t stop his stomach from clenching when he’d see Hal staring blankly out the kitchen window, a dish motionless in his hand. He didn’t have to say what was bothering him; Dave could see Emma in the hunch of his shoulders, the tightness in his eyes. He could feel it when Hal would edge away from a touch, flinch slightly at a kiss. It was a pain worse than any physical one Dave had ever experienced. 

Dave didn’t force him to talk. It didn’t seem like Hal had much to say . . . not yet. He whispered in bed, glasses off and hair mussed, that he was still working on the right perspective. He’d squeezed Dave’s hand and brought it to his lips. There was an implied, Please don’t feel like you aren’t helping me, but Dave felt it all the same. All he could do was wrap his arms around Hal’s back—be the anchor amongst all of his thoughts. But it didn’t feel like enough. 

Sitting on their couch, Dave reached down to lightly brush Hal’s cheek. Hal’s eyes fluttered, but he still didn’t say anything. 

“Do you want to go for a walk for a bit?” he asked, a tightness creeping up his neck. He wanted to make Hal smile more than anything; he wasn’t used to relying on the happiness of others to make him feel at ease, but he couldn’t seem to help it anymore. 

Hal grimaced, saying, “It’s like five hundred degrees out there.” 

“Yeah, and it’s like four hundred degrees in here,” Dave countered. 

Hal groaned at that, but slowly rolled his body forward into a sitting position. “I guess it would be good to get out of the house a little.” 

*  
The black baseball cap made Dave’s hair stick out to the side, little wings right above his ears. Hal’s newsboy hat and sunglasses weren’t much better, but Dave thought Hal looked rather endearing, his face almost swallowed by the accessories. They walked along the back alley outside their apartment building. The dumpster gave off an incredible stench of melted plastic and compost; Dave turned around to look back at Hal, laughing internally at the horrified look on his face.

“Is there a garbage strike going on, too, or something? My god.” Hal held his nose and walked faster, catching up to Dave in a few strides. “It is miserable out here,” he added, adjusting his over-the-glasses sunglasses. 

Dave glanced sideways at him. “It was miserable inside. It’s just hot out here.” He hoped gently poking fun would bring Hal around. Hal lightly punched Dave’s arm, but smiled a little. 

“Any luck on the internet?” Dave asked, shifting subject.

Hal shrugged. “It could be a few days yet. I’ve been trying to steal signal from a few places, but it seems like even the businesses on generators have spotty power. Any time I connect, it just kicks off again a few minutes later.”

“You going to make it that long?” Dave’s voice was thick with teasing, and Hal smirked at first, but then his expression drooped.

“I think so. It’s just . . .” He paused, shoving his hands down in his pockets. 

“Just?” 

Hal sighed. “Hard. You know, without the distraction of work. It’s . . . harder.” 

Dave nodded. He felt momentarily bad for bringing up a subject that reminded Hal of his pain, but then he realized this was the first time he’d really brought it up on his own. “I’d agree.” He looked forward, kept walking to the edge of the sidewalk, then stopped. “Anything new you want to talk about?” Hal didn’t answer. “Or anything old?” 

Silence.

“Hal?” Dave didn’t want to let it go, even if it did make Hal feel uncomfortable. 

With a deep breath, Hal sighed again. “I’ve just been feeling a little . . . guilty.”

“About?” 

Hal kept his eyes straight ahead, but started to cross the street towards an open, grassy area. No one else was outside—they didn’t really need to worry about being seen, though Dave scanned their surroundings quickly, waiting for Hal to fill in the blanks. 

“Guilty about feeling happy,” he said softly. He looked over at Dave, expression slightly embarrassed. 

Dave tilted his head to the side. “I thought you might.” He considered his next words, watching Hal chew on his lower lip. “That’s a pretty normal reaction,” he paused for a moment, then added, “don’t you think?” 

That caused Hal to frown, look down at his feet. He started walking again. “How do you figure?”

Dave shrugged, following a step behind Hal. “Because I’ve been there before.” It wasn’t a story he’d ever told anyone, but it had been on his mind more and more the last few days. He deflected briefly: “You saying I’m not normal?”

Hal brushed aside the joke, instead asking curiously, “With Meryl?” 

Though he hadn’t exactly been secretive about what went down after Shadow Moses, Dave was never specific about what drove he and Meryl apart. He’d just said it had ended, it was ugly, and he felt bad about it. Hal never really probed him much farther on it. 

“No, that was a pretty standard case of incompatibility,” Dave admitted. He suddenly felt very anxious, so he pulled a cigarette from his side pocket, holding it between his lips as he fumbled around for his lighter. He talked around the cigarette, “Meryl wanted me to be someone I wasn’t and I try not to make a habit of pretending to be other people.” He lit his cigarette, cupping the tip with the palm of his hand—he hadn’t really expected to air all of his past relationship failures when he’d decided to go for the walk, but if his experience could help Hal even a little . . .

Hal, voice piqued with interest, didn’t miss a beat with asking, “So who then?” Dave looked over at him and for a moment thought he detected just a twinge of jealousy in Hal’s eyes. He’d heard about Holly and Meryl, but Dave guessed he didn’t imagine there had been others, which was just like Hal: sweet, naïve enough about his own emotions to inadvertently hurt himself. Hal was the most capable man Dave had ever met, but his heart was always open. 

Even though it hurt him, Dave still admired the way Hal never shut his heart away. Dave was trying to do the same, so he cleared his throat a little. “There was a waitress at this little diner when I first moved to Alaska. She was friendly. Really, overly friendly, but I didn’t see it that way at the time.” 

Hal moved a little closer to him as they walked towards a patch of trees that lead to an old, infrequently used playground area. Dave could see the sweat beading up on Hal’s nose, his cheeks. 

“She flirted with me. I ignored it at first. I was hungover a lot in those days—not exactly in the mood for small talk. I was a mess, but I started to like it when she’d touch my shoulder or not charge me for coffee. It felt,” he paused, looking down at the ground, “like an escape. A relief.” He looked over at Hal and took a drag off his cigarette. It had been years since he’d really thought about Sasha—about her short hair and huge eyes, or how she made him forget the world for a short time every day. He blew the smoke out to the side and sighed a little. Hal stayed quiet. “So I stopped going there.” 

“What? You just stopped?”

“Yeah. Nothing happened between us, probably never would have. She was flirtatious with everyone; I wasn’t anybody special to her. And looking back, she wasn’t really special to me either. It’s just,” he stared down at the smoking end of his cigarette, looking for the right words. “I felt so guilty for liking the distraction. Like I deserved to feel like shit forever for what I’d done on that last mission. I couldn’t let myself feel relief.” His voice grew darker, “It wasn’t meant for me. Happiness.” 

Ignoring the connection to himself, Hal’s eyes looked sad, but on Dave’s behalf. “You didn’t deserve to feel that.” 

“Neither do you,” Dave countered quickly, cocking an eyebrow. 

Hal fidgeted with the ends of his hat, readjusting it on his head. He grumbled something to himself, so Dave reached out, grasping him by his shoulder. “Hal?” His face slowly slid upwards. “What good comes from you being miserable?” 

Shrugging a little, Hal averted his eyes again. His cheeks were red, but Dave didn’t think from the heat of the sun—there was no good answer for him to give. “I feel bad because . . . because then it means I haven’t forgotten. Haven’t forgotten her.” 

Dave was far from surprised; it’s what he’d suspected all along, but hearing the pain in Hal’s voice stabbed sharp between his ribs. He raised his hand from Hal’s shoulder to his chin, tipping his face upwards so he was sure Hal was looking at him. “You can remember and still allow yourself some happiness. Isn’t that what she would want?” 

“I . . . don’t think so.” Hal’s lips were shaking. Dave wanted to rip a park bench out of the ground; he hated seeing Hal hurt, hated it more than anything. 

He tried to soften his voice, “She was just angry. She cared about you. She wouldn’t have wanted this.” 

“She was really, really angry. For years,” Hal added.

“But beyond that, she loved you.” Dave felt a sudden, gripping urge to add, _And I love you, too_. It made him feel slightly dizzy, sick—he could feel the sweat rolling down his back. Maybe it was the heat just getting to him . . . he felt like he needed to sit. 

Hal, not noticing the spinning gears behind Dave’s eyes, mulled over what was said silently. He reached up and held Dave’s hand, their skin hot and salty with sweat. 

After a moment, Dave recovered enough to lean in and pressed a quick kiss to Hal’s forehead. He closed his eyes and, voice deep, said, “Your burden is not yours to carry alone, okay?” 

At that, Hal’s face finally lightened. Dave slipped off Hal’s sunglasses, looked into the dusky grey of his eyes, the pretty sweep of his eyelashes. Hal nodded finally, mouthing, “Okay.” At that Dave smiled, running his fingers down the side of Hal’s neck. Then, Hal nodded more, adding louder this time, “You can carry me.” 

Dave was about to speak again when suddenly the sky finally cracked open—fat drops of rain fell in plops against the ground, their bodies. The temperature almost instantly eased several degrees cooler, the smell of a summer shower filling their noses. It felt like the earth finally had enough and just let it all go. It felt like relief. Dave looked up into the rain, took a deep breath and nodded to himself: _Yes._ He was in love. 

Hal’s first reaction to the rain was a cartoonish groan, but when Dave turned back to him, Hal’s expression had changed. His eyes traveled down Dave’s chest—his shirt was beginning to stick to his body, soaking with rain and sweat. Hal’s eyes narrowed a little, their color going slightly dark. Voice starting to fill with heat, he said, “I’ll race you home.” 

*

Unable to wait until Dave turned the key in their lock, Hal gently kissed the side of Dave’s neck, tugging at the back of his wet t-shirt. Dave struggled to turn the key, but finally pushed through the door. He spun around, tossing the keys to the side and re-locking the door in one motion—pinning Hal up against the wall immediately after. They were hip-to-hip, nose-to-nose. Dave’s eyes were shining. 

Hal looked up at Dave with a large smile as Dave pulled off his hat and threw it across the room. His hair was nearly soaked, standing up in every pointy direction. The rain had picked up in earnest about a block away from their apartment, and Hal had squealed the whole way back. Dave was almost doubled over in laughter at the way Hal flailed his arms above his head. _You look like you’re swatting flies!_ Dave had shouted over the splatter of the rain. 

Reaching up, Hal tugged off Dave’s hat, pushed his fingers through his thick hair. They eyed each other for a few moments—Dave connecting the rain drops on Hal’s cheek with the side of his thumb, Hal massaging the base of Dave’s skull with the pads of his fingers. A burning heat was starting to pool in Dave’s stomach, but he tried to push it down—he wanted to take his time. 

He kissed Hal’s lips gently, pulling Hal’s lower lip between his own. Hal kissed back eagerly, hands sliding down to grip at Dave’s shoulders, his waist, their hips pressing together harder. Dave pulled away from the kiss with a quiet pop, pulled off his wet shirt, then Hal’s. They came back together, skin cool and a little wet—Dave pressing kisses to Hal’s shoulders, his neck, below his ears. Hal made tiny noises of encouragement, his hips continuing to thrust forward for more contact. Dave blew cold air along Hal’s neck, softly against his ear to hear more of those noises. 

Hal pawed at the front of Dave’s jeans, fumbling with the button in the wet denim. Dave took Hal’s wrists and pulled them away, instead turning around and tugging Hal along back towards the bedroom. He didn’t flip on the light, but lead Hal over to the bed, pushed him down onto the mattress. 

“Jeans off,” he said, working on his own. He watched Hal with half-lidded eyes and a hint of a smile as Hal struggled some with the pant legs, heavy with rain. Hal kicked the jeans off at last, boxers along with them, then leaned back on his elbows. He watched Dave with hot, but curious eyes. Hal was fully hard already—his cock a beautiful curve above his flat stomach. Dave sighed just looking at Hal’s body on display, just for him—Hal was all lithe, long lines . . . smooth, incredible. He reminded himself about taking it slow. 

Kicking of his own jeans, Dave climbed on the bed, guiding Hal back farther with a hand on his hip, and laid him down flat on his back. He took Hal’s glasses off, put them to the side.

Dave drew a line down Hal’s chest with his fingertip, curving away from his cock, and continuing down the inside of his thigh. Hal gasped and wiggled under his touch, making Dave’s chest tingle in the best way. Dave repeated the same movement on the other side, curling circles along the sensitive skin behind Hal’s knee. Goosebumps broke out along Hal’s skin in waves, starting at his thighs, then up his chest, his arms. He bowed his head, kissed the cool curve of Hal’s hip, one side and then the other. His lips pressed a line up Hal’s stomach, stopping at his right nipple to suck at the tender skin. As his lips worked their way to Hal’s other nipple, his hands were warm sweeps up and down Hal’s thighs, his sides, but avoiding his cock completely. He used his nails to lightly scratch down the backs of Hal’s arms, to which he received a new wave of goose bumps under his touch. 

“Dave, please.” Hal wasn’t used to much teasing and it made Dave grin against his chest.

“Please what?” He asked, tracing a circle around the peak of Hal’s nipple with his tongue. 

“You know what,” he moaned, bucking his hips upwards to press his cock against Dave’s stomach. 

Dave pushed Hal’s hips back down against the bed with one hand, and shimmied upwards to kiss the hollow of his throat, the sides of his neck. He felt Hal wiggle more beneath him, felt him sigh. Dave tried to ignore the throb of his own cock. 

Leaning back to sitting position for a moment, Dave grabbed both Hal’s wrists, pushed them together, and held them above Hal’s head against a pillow. He moved forward again, leaning into nip at Hal’s upper lip. Hal didn’t fight against Dave’s hands, so he let go of his wrists and they stayed above Hal’s head as they kissed warmly, Hal teasing the inside of Dave’s lip with his tongue. Dave gingerly lowered his hips, pressing his cock to the inside of Hal’s thigh. They both groaned into the kiss. Hal’s hands came back to life and landed on Dave’s hips, pushing him in harder and grinding back against him. Dave made a mental note to find something to tie Hal’s wrists together next time, but he was soon grinding against Hal with equal fervor. 

Hal curled his legs around Dave’s back, moaning wonderfully into Dave’s ear, “Come on.” Dave titled his hips and felt their cocks rub together; it was hot and a little harsh, rough, but still felt amazing. Hal gave another moan and gripped hard onto the backs of Dave’s thighs. 

With one more deep kiss, Dave pulled back, reached over into their bedside drawer and pulled a condom out of the box, their new bottle of lube. He laid the condom to the side on the bed, but opened and tilted the bottle. 

“Oh, god, yeah.” Hal’s hips bucked as Dave wrapped a hand around his cock. 

He stroked Hal slowly as he reached down lower, gently. He pressed one finger there, looked to Hal’s face. The first few times weren’t perfect—they’d tried too much too fast, were still learning when to push, when the hold back. But Dave was patient, knew it took a few tries to get everything just right—knew how to assure Hal of the same. They were learning each other; it was exciting despite any false moves. 

After a moment, Dave pushed a little farther. He caught a slight wince on Hal’s face, so he slowed down, focused on the strokes of his hand until Hal’s jaw dropped slightly, his eyes closing as his head fell back deeper into the pillow. His body relaxed more, so Dave pushed his finger inside a little more—this time Hal hummed in approval. 

Dave shifted around some. He held himself up by one palm on the mattress as he lowered his head, lips touching the head of Hal’s cock. He kissed, licked in circles, his hand still working down below Hal’s hips. He wanted to give Hal everything, wanted to heal every pain, make him feel as amazing as he deserved every second of the day. Dave knew that wasn’t possible, but he was goddamned if he wasn’t going to try. 

“Oh, Dave, Dave, Dave.” Hal’s voice sounded almost an octave lower than usual. His hands dove into Dave’s hair, his hips lifting up off the bed. 

Dave took Hal into his mouth, sliding his tongue up and down. He was smiling internally at just how much Hal seemed to be enjoying himself. 

“Dave, god, you’ve gotta . . . I’m gonna . . .” Hal flopped both arms back against the mattress and groaned. His hips rolled of their own accord it seemed; Hal didn’t appear to be in control of much anymore. Dave brought him deeper into his mouth, moved his finger a little more quickly. He had plans to get Hal off more than once; he didn’t need to stop. 

“Ngghhh, fuck, fuck, Dave . . .” Hal couldn’t keep quiet any longer, which told Dave he really was close. He toyed with the idea of slowing down, teasing him more, but wanted to hear Hal come right then. 

Closing his eyes, Dave relaxed the back of his throat, slid Hal’s cock all the way in his mouth and held him there for two beats, then started moving again, in a smooth rhythm with his finger. Hal’s stomach muscles were clenching hard, his hips moving in hungry circles. He kept repeating Dave’s name over and over again as he beat at the mattress with his palms, fisting the sheets in his fingers. 

“Dave, Dave, aw, fucking fuck, Dave, Daaaveee.” Hal came with a near shout followed by a loud groan, his hands grabbing hard at Dave’s hair as his body lifted up, went nearly rigid, then fell back against the bed. His hips continued to circle upwards as he gasped—Dave riding out the end of Hal’s orgasm with long strokes of his tongue up the length of his cock. 

When he sat back up, Dave looked down at the pink-cheeked Hal. His chest felt like there was a soaring balloon inside; fuck, he loved this man. 

“Yeah?” Dave asked coyly. 

Hal opened his eyes and laughed. “Oh, yeah,” he replied. He reached a wobbly hand up to touch the side of Dave’s face. 

Dave turned in, kissed Hal’s palm softly. He took his time to kiss up each of Hal’s fingers, the inside of his wrist. Then he slid his gaze back over to Hal, eyes dark and full of fire. He reached for the bottle of lube again. 

Now far more relaxed, Hal looked up at Dave with heavy-lidded eyes as one finger was pushed back inside of him. Hal stayed horizontal for the first few minutes, but as Dave slowly worked in a second finger, he reached around to stroke Dave’s cock. They struggled a bit to get in a comfortable position, but eventually Dave managed to lean in and kiss Hal as they both settled into an easy rhythm with their hands. Dave was beginning to feel the tendrils of fire work their way up his stomach, up his spine, his shoulders. He moaned softly into Hal’s mouth. 

Hal used his teeth to nibble at Dave’s bottom lip, his hand pumping a little faster. 

Dave murmured Hal’s name, felt himself beginning to melt into Hal’s touch. Then he felt Hal pressing something cold against his chest—the condom. Dave nodded, kissed Hal one more time, then pulled away. Hal ripped open the package, rolled it onto Dave’s cock quickly, leaning back on his elbows to watch as Dave grabbed for the lube again. 

Steadying himself with one arm, Dave moved his hips directly underneath Hal’s. He rubbed Hal’s thighs as he looked to him: Hal nodded, bit his lip in a smirk. 

Slowly, Dave pushed inside Hal, each thrust of his hips gentle, careful at first. It was difficult to hold back, his blood hot and pulsing in his ears, but Dave took a deep breath. He looked at Hal, whose mouth was open in a small ‘o.’ Hal nodded his head, hummed quietly, and Dave slid inside more. A tingle ran down his back and his mouth dropped open. He touched up and down Hal’s chest, his thighs, mumbled, “You feel . . . incredible.” 

Finally, Dave felt Hal’s hands squeezing on his hips, pushing him forward—the go ahead. He began to work his hips, grinding against Hal in small, tight circles. 

“Oh . . . ohhh . . .” Hal’s voice sounded surprised. Pleased. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, that, yes.” 

Dave kept the same motion, but moved a little deeper, harder. The room started to fade away around him, the buzz of his body, the sound of Hal’s voice enveloping him completely. A swirl pulsed up his stomach, bounced around in his chest. 

“Ah, ah, god,” Dave gasped. It hadn’t felt this good before. He looked down at Hal, saw his face relaxed, happy. Another surge went up from below his bellybutton, curled around his spine. Then he noticed that Hal was rubbing his own cock with one hand, already hard and throbbing again. Dave rolled his eyes back, let out a loud moan, “Fuck, Hal.” 

“Mmm, more, come on,” Hal sighed, pumping his hand faster. He held onto Dave’s left hip, pushed him forward hard. 

Dave picked up his pace, his stomach and chest swirling, his neck tingling. He looked at Hal’s face—his mouth had fallen open, kept mouthing “oh” over and over, his eyes squeezed shut. Dave groaned, moved faster still. He eyed Hal’s cock, hot and pulsing in his hand. He was dangerously close, teetering on the edge—bottle rockets shooting up from his hips, but not yet exploding. He held back, thrusted in a little deeper, never taking his eyes off Hal. 

“Dave, oh, Dave, there, there, more,” Hal moaned fast, his voice almost shouting. “Oh my god, oh my god, there, Dave, ohhh goddd.” 

Hal’s head titled backwards, his muscles going rigid, and Dave felt him tighten fast around his cock. It only took a moment for Dave to let go, watching Hal come again—white flashes hot behind his eyes, his whole body shaking in a wave of fireworks. He gasped Hal’s name several times, weakly continuing to thrust his hips as the ripples kept working down his body from the base of his skull. 

Collapsing forward onto the mattress, Dave landed next to Hal, his lips pressed to Hal’s shoulder. He breathed in heavy through his nose, his arms and legs feeling like they were floating above his body. 

Hal flopped an arm across Dave’s side. “Wow,” he said, voice throaty. He laughed happily, easily, grey eyes sparkling. 

Dave grinned back. “Yeah?” he said again, biting his lip. 

“Jesus Christ, yeah,” Hal said, tickling Dave’s side lightly.

Dave swatted his hand away, but laughed back, “I guess you could say I’m a quick study.” 

Hal shook his head against the pillow. “That’s an understatement.” 

*

After they’d rested a few minutes and showered, they both lay back on the bed. Hal snuggled up against Dave, put his head against the other man’s chest. Dave toyed with the hair at the back of Hal’s neck, nose against the top of his head. 

“I’m happy with you,” Hal said quietly—a matter of fact. 

“Mmm,” Dave hummed. He squeezed Hal’s hand. 

“Really. I . . .” Hal paused. “I should never have tried to deny a feeling like that. It’s selfish in the worst way.” 

“Is there selfish in a good way?” Dave asked.

“Of course.” Hal didn’t elaborate, but Dave just kept quiet and smiled. “I’m not going to deny myself happiness anymore. I don’t deserve to feel bad.” 

Dave nodded. “Good.” He weaved his fingers in between Hal’s. 

“Mmm, good,” Hal replied, snuggling closer against Dave. His breathing slowed and after a minute or two, Dave knew he was asleep.

With the pad of his thumb, Dave lightly traced the shape of a heart against the top of Hal’s hand.


	4. It's Been A Long Time Coming, pt. 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Pairing:** Solid Snake/Otacon  
>  **Rating:** NC-17, featuring bottom!Snake  
>  **Summary:** Raiden visits to work on a plan to rescue Olga's daughter from the Patriots--Snake and Otacon's first encounter with a friend after getting together. Gets pretty sexy and lovey in the end.  
>  **Notes:** Potentially a bit AU in terms of timeline.

Several months after the Big Shell, Hal had managed to narrow down the location of Olga’s child to two possibilities: a facility off the South Carolina shore, or a Seattle magnet school that had recently been wiped from public state records, but not from everywhere. The Patriots covered their tracks by keeping information circulating en masse—any other operation would have given up after a few weeks of digging through the mostly pointless data. But Hal and Dave weren’t easily discouraged, and Jack was perhaps the most motivated of them all. 

They invited Jack out to the new safe house in the Missouri woods to discuss the initial details of the extraction plan. Jack suggested he rent a room close to Dave and Hal until the time of the mission for ease of communication, though Hal had mentioned that Jack sounded tense when he made the offer. Knowing the mental lows that he himself experienced after a tough mission, Dave could relate to the desire to run off at the hint of any distraction. 

“Do you think there are problems at home?” Hal asked.

Dave shrugged. “He did just have his whole world ripped apart. It wouldn’t be a shock if he was having trouble dealing with it.”

“And Rose could be having a hard time dealing with his trouble,” Hal said quietly, looking away. 

“Maybe,” Dave agreed, reaching over to cup Hal’s cheek, turning his face back to him. “But it isn’t so bad when the other person is worth the trouble.” He smiled; Hal smiled back. 

The weather was turning crisper by the day—the trees a beautiful spread of sunset oranges and yellows. Dave noticed a few tiny, decorative pumpkins pop up around the house; Hal had also suddenly taken to drinking a cup of cinnamon stick tea before bed. Dave made a mental note to try asking the elderly woman down the road for a pumpkin pie. (They had checked her out; no internet access, only local, non-cable channels, and hard of hearing—unlikely that she had any idea who they were.) She seemed the baking type and even appeared to like them; she always grinned and waved excitedly, like she knew all their secrets, but approved of them whole-heartedly. 

Jack arrived in the early evening, slightly haggard in khakis and a rumpled long-sleeve shirt. There were dark circles under his eyes and a certain look that Dave recognized—relationship difficulties. Dave handed him a beer first thing, understanding that he didn’t need to ask. Without hard data, they were still in the speculative stages on their plan—no edge would be lost if they relaxed a little. _Like normal people_ , Dave thought to himself as he popped the cap off his bottle against the counter. He ignored Hal’s mumbling, “Oh, for crying out loud, there goes the security deposit.” 

They settled themselves outside on the nearly spacious patio. The closest house was about a mile off, but Dave did a quick check of the yard to be sure, lighting a cigarette as he shuffled through the grass around the back of the house, peeking inside the nearest line of trees. 

“We’re clear,” he said, taking a drag and grabbing up his bottle of beer before plopping down in the metal chair. 

Hal scooted his chair around so he wasn’t directly down wind from Dave’s cigarette smoke and began. “I have the location down to two possibilities, but they’re on opposite ends of the country, so it isn’t advisable for us to try both. I think within the next week we’ll have enough satellite imagery to tell what’s actually going in and out of each location. The Patriots do a good job of cloning records in order to mask the true operation, but it isn’t uncrackable.”

Jack nodded, taking a long drink and grimacing after. 

“Once we have the location nailed down, then we plot out a minimum of three entrance and exit strategies. Da—Snake will take point. Less risk of anything happening to you that might endanger the child.”

At that, Jack shook his head. “No. No, I should be the one to go in. ”

Dave tossed a glance over at Hal, then settled on Jack. “Why? It’s an unnecessary risk.”

Jack’s gaze was firm. “It’s my responsibility. My life and this child’s are entwined; I owe them this.” 

“And if something happens to you?”

“I thought it was your job to keep that from happening,” Jack replied with a small smirk, taking another drink, his bottle nearly empty. Dave stared back at him, impressed. Something was different with the kid, for sure. 

“Well, there is no guarantee,” Hal added, uncertainly. 

“There never is, Otacon. But this is something I have to do myself. I think Snake understands what I mean.” Jack finished the last of his beer, looking off momentarily into the woods. 

Dave reached over and grabbed Jack’s empty bottle, tossing his cigarette butt inside. He mulled it over for a moment—Jack had proven himself a more-than-capable soldier, and he was one of the few people they trusted. Dave recognized the look in Jack’s eyes: he wouldn’t fail. 

Lighting up a second cigarette, Dave tilted his head to the side as his hand shielded against the slight breeze. “I understand. This one is personal.” He looked up at Jack, who nodded in agreement. “You take point; we’ll be your backup.” 

“That doesn’t really change much of the plan, I guess.” Hal sounded a little surprised. “I’ll just adjust our strategy to your skill set instead of Snake’s when the time comes.” 

Jack nodded, then glanced down at the empty bottle, a small stream of smoking tailing out the top. “Got another one of those?” 

“Yeah, sure.” Dave stood. He turned to Hal, resisted the urge to slip his fingers through his hair, instead asking, “For you?” 

“Oh, uh, no. I’m fine,” Hal answered, not making direct eye contact. It was the first time they’d really been in mixed company since getting together. Though they weren’t trying to be secretive exactly, it was still a strange line to walk. 

Dave held his cigarette in the corner of his mouth as he grabbed several bottles of beer from the fridge and his keys off the counter. He stopped midway to the door, turned around, and went back to the cabinets. He fumbled to make room for the small, unopened bottle of sake Hal had picked up months ago. They’d carried it around from place to place, Hal never seeming to remember that he had it. Dave had never tried anything from a bottle with a pink cherry blossom on the side, but Hal became a particular kind of giggly the one other time he’d seen him drink it. Hal would drink beer with him, but rarely ever enough to get a buzz going. 

Back outside, Jack grabbed two beers from Dave’s hands as he set the rest down on the wobbly table. He offered the sake to Hal, who accepted it with a confused look on his face. He then stood and muttered, “Need a glass,” before heading inside. Dave tossed his keys across the table to Jack, who popped off both caps with the key to the lawnmower shed. 

“You doing all right?” Dave asked, grabbing his keys as Jack slid them back across the table. 

“Been better,” Jack admitted, turning a cap around and around in his left hand. 

Dave knew how to get Hal to talk, but he’d never really cared to try with most other people. He felt awkward, but tried pressing. “Is, uh, it what I think it is?”

“What’s that?” Jack asked absently.

“Women trouble?” 

Jack let out a short laugh. “Woman singular, but yeah, that’s about it.” 

“I don’t exactly have a good track record there myself.”

Jack cocked an eyebrow and nodded in agreement, but didn’t reply. 

Hal came back holding a former jelly jar with a cartoon on the side. They’d found it at a thrift shop and been using it as a juice glass. He didn’t need to explain, but offered anyway, “We uh, don’t actually have any other glasses. Turns out.” He poured the clear liquid into the jar and sat down, taking a small sip with both hands around the glass. 

Without much else specific to discuss in terms of their mission, their conversation shifted to potential strategies, guesses at security, surveillance, and whether pulling the child out would trigger the nanomachines in their blood. After that, they speculated about The Patriots for a while, where Dead Cell could have ended up, and then, several bottles of beer in, how Dave might look while wearing a suit with tentacle arms. 

When all the bottles were empty, a pink-cheeked Hal revealed that he had a second bottle of sake hidden in a cabinet. 

“I think you two’d like it, really. It’s . . . not that that diff’rent from vodka.” 

Jack nearly snorted at that, a bit of life sparkling around his eyes again. He’d loosened up considerably with the knowledge that he would get to run the rescue mission, and even more after his fifth beer. He’d even been cracking a few jokes, cheesy ones that made Hal double over and nearly topple out of his chair and Dave smile to himself, more so at Hal than the jokes. 

“When was the last time you had vodka, Hal?” Dave asked, laughing and tugging his nearly empty pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. 

“Listen . . . you act like I never went to college,” Hal paused, then added slowly, “Because I did.” He stood up, wobbling a bit, saying, “I’m gonna go get that other sake.” 

Hal quickly tripped over the leg of his chair, and Dave instinctively reached out and grabbed his arm to steady him. “And upright you go,” he said, touch lingering several seconds too long on his arm—Hal’s cheeks flushed even pinker. Dave bit back a grin as Hal shuffled, embarrassed, towards the door without another word. 

The alcohol had him feeling warm and bold and wanting Hal quiet badly. He really did enjoy having Jack around, but the more he drank, the harder it was to keep his hands to himself.

Dave lit his cigarette, but felt Jack’s eyes on him. He looked up; Jack was smiling, the same “I know” smile that the neighbor woman always had. 

“So, uh, you and Otacon, huh?” Jack asked, sliding a bottle cap along the table with one finger. 

“Me and Otacon what?” Dave’s face gave away nothing, but inside he wanted to laugh and shout, _yes!_ He was finding his happiness a particularly hard secret to keep, especially while buzzing. 

“You’re . . . you’re, ah . . . together.” Jack said it more like a statement than a question, his eyes shining. 

“Define together,” Dave countered, blowing a billow of smoke out into the darkness. 

Jack laughed, spinning his bottle cap around and around. “You know. Together in a together way.” 

“We’ve been working together for years,” Dave said, his narrowed eyes only hinting at the smile inside. 

“Mmm, but working together is not _together_ together.” 

Snorting, Dave dismissed him. “You kids and your terminology.” 

Jack tilted his head and looked at Dave sidelong for several moments, then nodded, pursing his lips a little. “It’s for certain.” 

“What?” Dave asked, letting a bit of the smile come through. 

“That you’re together.” Dave just raised his eyebrows, then, against his better judgment, shrugged his shoulders ever so slightly. Jack pointed at him, mouth falling open a little, as if he’d made a huge discovery. He shook his head, then plopped against the back of the chair with a thunk. “And I think you’re in love with him.” 

At that, Dave’s felt his face flush. He looked down at the table, not able to find a snappy comeback. He heard Jack laugh and clap his hands. “Oh, I knew it. I am going to call Mei Ling first thing tomorrow.” 

“Wait a minute, how did Mei Ling get involved in this? How did you even meet her?” Dave shot back. 

Jack laughed harder. “Snake, you know there’s the internet, right? Otacon introduced us. She’s been helping me get set up with my own radar system. But,” Jack raised a finger, “back to the real topic at hand.”

Dave flushed more. He looked over his shoulder to check if Hal was coming back. Jack, of course, noticed it instantly. “You haven’t told him,” he said, again a statement of fact rather than a question. Dave wondered if Jack had been this perceptive all along or if it was just that blatantly obvious. 

“No,” he admitted, voice low. He eyed over his shoulder again, then back at Jack, face serious. “You can tell?”

“Absolutely.” Jack grinned. “You’ve been staring at him like a lovesick teenager all night.” 

Dave frowned, rubbed at his hot cheeks with the heel of his hand. “Shit,” he mumbled. 

Jack started laughing again, but then Hal burst out the door, no bottle in his hand, just a bag of pretzel sticks, which he was waving around like a prize. “So, in truth of the situation . . . I did not actually _have_ a second bottle of sake.” 

Dave looked at Hal, then to Jack, who was biting his lip, trying to hold in his laugh. Putting his hand over his mouth, Dave looked back at Hal, who stood arms akimbo, a bit confused. He seemed to think they were disappointed at the lack of sake, so he waved the pretzels around a little more. “But I did find these?” He didn’t make any motion to return to the table, just stood there for nearly a minute, wiggling the bag up and down. 

“Hal,” Dave said, on the verge of tears from the effort of not laughing hysterically. He wasn’t really sure what was so funny, but he couldn’t seem to hold back the feeling. 

“Mmm?” 

“You wanna sit down now?” 

Jack fell forward onto the table, finally letting out a huge laugh, nearly shouting, “I win the hundred dollars, Mei Ling!” 

Hal looked at Dave, brow furrowed, but Dave just shrugged. 

*

Though Jack initially tried to say he’d go back to his hotel that night, Dave got him settled on the squeaky couch with a blanket that was only half-full of holes and a throw pillow. He fell asleep almost instantly. Despite being a good bit buzzed himself, Hal left a glass of water by the couch and the half-full bag of pretzels. 

Hal came back into the kitchen where Dave was having a glass of water himself. 

“I don’t think he’s going to get sick, Hal,” Dave said, referencing the pretzels. 

“No, but he might be hungry.” Hal’s voice still had a touch of a slur, his cheeks adorably pink. 

Deciding not to detail all the better kinds of food he could leave Jack, Dave opted instead to grab Hal by the elbow and pull him close. A twisting warmth began working up Dave’s chest—it seemed like he’d been holding himself back for far longer than a few hours. He offered Hal the water glass, let him finish it off, kissing his warm neck once he was done. 

Hal put the glass down on the counter, then wrapped both arms around Dave, nuzzling his nose to Dave’s cheek. He let out a relieved, happy sigh at the physical contact—a tingle went down Dave’s back as he turned his head, kissing the corner of Hal’s mouth. Not wasting a second, Hal kissed back, full and slow, his tongue gently parting Dave’s lips. 

The alcohol tasted slightly bitter, but Dave met Hal’s tongue happily, slipping his fingers down the back of Hal’s loose jeans, meeting warm, firm flesh. He moaned softly into Hal’s mouth, felt Hal sigh back, then slide hands underneath his shirt. 

“I’ve been thinking about you all night,” Dave whispered, rubbing his tongue along Hal’s neck, biting at his earlobe. Hal answered with a shudder. Then he gasped, pressed his hips hard against Dave’s thigh, his cock already getting hard and straining against the front of his jeans. 

Dave’s head fell back some as Hal ground his hips, shoving Dave’s shirt up into a bunch under his chin. He licked and bit up Dave’s chest, groaning with each roll of his hips. “Me, too,” Hal managed, licking in circles around one nipple, hands hungry and grasping wherever he could. “I can never stop thinking about your body.” His voice was breathless, earnest, catching Dave off guard slightly. “I want you constantly. All day . . . it’s so . . .” He’d kissed higher, tongue in the hollow of Dave’s throat. One hand pressed in between their hips, palm flat and rubbing against Dave’s cock. Hal groaned, hissing, “So ridiculous.” 

Dave groaned embarrassingly loud, biting his lip after. He had never heard Hal talk so candidly. It was surprising—hot. Very hot. He pushed his hips harder, closed his eyes, mind flipping to imagine Hal’s cock, it throbbing and glistening . . . imagining it in his mouth, the taste of heat and salt, the low sound of Hal panting his name, fingers in his hair . . . imagining it slick and tight, thrust deep inside of him—he shivered, a jolt of arousal hitting him so hard he thought he might fall backwards. 

Unable to speak, Dave pulled Hal back gently, then drug him back into the one bedroom, kicking shut the door before pushing Hal up against it. He wanted something different—wanted to know what he gave to Hal—to be pounded into the bed, to be taken whole. He wanted Hal to possess him, to use him, fuck him, slam and come inside him, screaming. The force of these feelings made his head fuzzy—they seemingly blossomed up out of nowhere, but were strong enough to knock him over. 

“Hal,” he whispered, lips ghosting along his partner’s jawline. He felt himself blush, but the aching throb of his cock, the need burning in his gut were insistent. “Fuck me.” 

He pulled back some, caught the surprised look on Hal’s face, only half lit from the light seeping in through the window. 

Eyebrow raised, Hal asked, “Are . . . are you sure?”

Cupping Hal’s cheek, Dave kissed him loose lipped and soft, slow, murmuring, “Please.”

A long, deep moan left Hal’s throat as he deepened the kiss, working Dave’s pants open with one deft hand. He reached in, under the waistband of his boxers, grasped his cock and began stroking. Dave’s hips jerked—a wash of tingles splashing up from his hips. Hal tore himself away from the kiss, quickly undid his own jeans, pushing them off, his cock springing free. He roughly grabbed Dave’s hand, bringing it to his cock, and watched Dave pump for several moments, eyes dark, mouth open. He reached back to Dave’s hips, shoved down his pants, and picked back up where he left off. 

They kissed again, both men with their hands on the other’s cock, insistent, both seemingly unable to keep quiet—Dave panting hard already, Hal moaning quick, needy noises into Dave’s mouth. 

After a few minutes, Hal finally growled, “On the bed, on your back.” He stripped Dave’s shirt the rest of the way off, throwing it off somewhere before going to the nightstand, leaving Dave breathless as he kicked out of his jeans. 

Pushing the covers out of the way, Dave settled flat against the mattress, heart wild in his chest. Then Hal was there, nimble hands working down his chest. Dave shifted around, clicked on their dim bedside lamp, and settled back on his elbows to watch as Hal pressed one slick finger against him. It was tight, awkward at first, but watching Hal’s face kept Dave smoldering, his cock continuing to twitch at each new sensation. Hal bit his lip, eyes starting to drift to the side. Dave gave him a nod, and Hal’s face relaxed. 

Taking his time, Hal worked his fingers in and out, his free hand teasing and squeezing the base of Dave’s cock. Dave could feel it in his teeth, his back muscles clenching hard. He locked eyes with Hal, his stomach churning—Hal was flushing, but gave a crooked smile. He scissored his fingers inside, made Dave slam his hands down against the mattress, growling—he smiled bigger. The more he moved, the more the tightness eased, the awkward edge slowly fading into a gentle buzz. Dave hummed in approval, lifting his hips a bit, rocking them against Hal’s hand. Then he felt something else—a warmth curl up his hips, a familiar sensation of _oh, god, that._

“Oooh,” he moaned low, a lilt of surprise at the end. 

“Aha.” Hal titled his head with a smile, obviously familiar with what Dave had just felt. He began working his fingers to repeat the motion, adding one more in time. 

Dave closed his eyes and let his head drop back, lightly pushing his hips along with Hal’s hand for several minutes. The needy ache that had begun to ebb returned with a force. He was soon back to gasping, unable to keep his hips still. 

“Ah, ah, ha, Hal . . .”

Hal shifted, kept his hand moving, but gingerly leaned over Dave’s chest to kiss him. Dave was torn between the ache of his cock and the sweet warmth of Hal’s hand—he needed it, all of it, now. He kissed back hard, holding the back of Hal’s head, moaning into his mouth. 

“Yeah?” Hal whispered hotly, sucking Dave’s lip before he could form an answer. 

“Yeah,” Dave groaned. “Now.” 

Hal pulled back, fumbling with the condom, dropping it once, then the bottle of lube. Dave repeated, “Hal, god, now,” running a hand over his own cock and shuddering. 

“Flip over,” Hal grunted, tearing the foil packaging down the middle. 

Dave rolled over, knees and elbows flat against the bed, raised up on all fours. He wiggled from side to side in anticipation—felt Hal’s fingers splay open against the sides of his ass, then rub, squeeze, and slap. Hal sounded almost angry as he groaned, “Jesus, Dave, how are you even real?” Gasping at the sting from the slap, Dave rolled his hips, grinning to himself when Hal groaned again. 

Finally, mercifully, Hal was there, parting Dave’s legs a little more—pushing inside, tight, searing, but edged with the promise of release. Dave took a deep breath, relaxed his muscles, and looked down at his hands. Fingers gripped tight to the backs of his thighs. Clenching his teeth through the temporary discomfort, Dave focused on the feel of Hal behind him—the sweat on his chest, imagined the chords of his throat working as he gasped, the furrow of his forehead. 

Once fully inside, Hal shifted his hips around, gained his balance on the wobbly mattress, and began to grind against Dave’s ass. He leaned forward, chest and stomach pressed to Dave’s back. Reaching down, he held onto the top of Dave’s right hand tight as he moved, mumbling, “Shit, Dave.” He struggled at first to find balance and rhythm at the same time, but after several tries, he worked into an easy motion, momentum carrying his hips in and out. 

Grasping his partner’s arm, Dave started to feel the edge of discomfort wear away, being replaced with a slower burning. His cock twitched as he began to rock backwards, meeting Hal’s thrusts and forcing him in deeper. He turned his head to the side, sloppy kisses against the bend of Hal’s elbow. 

“Ahhh, ah, ah, Dave.” 

Dave felt a twist of pride—loved hearing Hal enjoy himself, loved feeling the muscles of his stomach work, the arc of his hips. But then Hal shifted forward more, lips against shoulder, and suddenly Dave was panting harder, the curl of warmth he’d felt earlier replaced by a deep blue flame, lapping hot tendrils over his whole body. He couldn’t keep quiet. 

“Hal, oh, goddammit, yes, don’t stop.” 

Hal moved faster, his eyes closed, face skewed slightly in concentration, but mouthing incoherent words over and over, every so often a “Dave” or a “ah god” coming through. His thighs slapped hard against the backs of Dave’s—he’d found his rhythm and wasn’t stopping. Dave was gripping the sheets hard with his free hand; the other found its way back to his own cock, pumping up and down fast, urgent, _now now now now._

Balancing himself against Dave’s hips with one hand, Hal reached under Dave’s stomach, slapped away Dave’s hand, replacing its strokes around his cock. Dave jerked, hips bucking backwards, pushing hard against Hal’s thrusts. Hal’s thumb worked in circles against the slick head of his cock, and Dave was hardly able to breathe, overwhelmed. 

“Jesus, Hal, that feels—ngh, ungh, oh, god . . .” Dave tried to look backwards, but instead felt Hal’s lips behind his ear, the tickle of shaky warm breath. Hal redoubled his efforts and slammed into Dave even harder, the bed squealing below them. 

“Oh, god, you are all that I need,” Hal moaned into his ear, and Dave’s jaw dropped. He was seeing stars, his chest swelling, muscles clenching and unclenching, cock throbbing, begging. One more twist from Hal’s hand and he was coming, hard, shouting Hal’s name, back arching. He squeezed tight around Hal and felt another wave at the sound of Hal letting go, just as loudly crying out into the night. 

Dave dropped down onto the bed, Hal following after. Dave rolled to the side, put his hand on the back of Hal’s head, humming happily, but exhaustedly into Hal’s hair. The buzz from the alcohol was almost completely gone, replaced with a contented flutter that had settled over his whole body. His cock still ached a little, but he was completely satisfied. 

“You are incredibly good at that,” Dave murmured. 

He felt Hal laugh more than heard him. Hal tossed a leg over Dave’s thigh, humbly answering, “It was a very good idea on your part.” 

They snuggled for a few minutes, breathing and heart rates settling back to normal, sweat cooling their hot skin. Then Hal wiggled around to look at Dave, a bit sheepish. “Dave?”

“Mmm?”

“That was uh . . . pretty loud.”

“Yeah?”

“Well . . . I think Jack probably knows now.” 

Dave laughed, leaning in to kiss Hal’s forehead. “Jack already knew.” 

Hal gaped at him, the expression an implied question of “how?”

“He noticed that I can’t stop looking at you.” 

“Oh,” Hal said, averting his eyes for a moment, flustered. 

“He probably noticed that you can’t stop looking at me, either.”

Hal’s cheeks grew pink again, but he smiled, pressing his forehead to Dave’s. Dave ran his fingers down the side of Hal’s face, studying his expression, his chest filling up with that familiar balloon. He sighed almost silently, leaned in and kissed Hal with an intensity that forced a surprised peep out of his partner’s lips. He gently traced the insides of Hal’s lips with his tongue, trying to say everything he couldn’t seem to speak. 

When Hal pulled back for a breath, his light eyes studying. He seemed to be waiting, but for what, Dave was unsure, his heart wrapped around his throat. He closed his eyes again, feeling a sudden shakiness seep into his limbs. 

Lips to Hal’s cheek, he whispered, “You are . . . _it_ for me, Hal. You’re all of it. Everything . . . everything to me.” He felt for Hal’s lips, kissed him gently as he let out a shaky sigh. “Everything.” 

Hal curled himself in as close as he possibly could, shoulders trembling. He buried his face in Dave’s neck, unable to respond except for a breathy, yet happy, “ _Oh._ ” 

And for the night, that was more than enough.


End file.
